In Her own Words

The days are long, my friends. I spend them waiting.

Time trickles by; minutes turn to hours; the sun winds its weary path across the sky. And still, I wait.

At long last, the hour draws near. I assume my position by the door. There are footsteps on the stairs! The jingle of keys! My excitement cannot be contained, and I burst into song. Oh happy day! Oh wondrous joy!

The swings open and two feet appear. Now is the moment! Two arms grab me around the middle and swing me into the air. Adrenaline pumps through my veins.

The door closes. I'm set back on my feet.

The Gatekeeper has returned. And I have once again been thwarted in my attempt to escape.

***

I have designed a daily regime to fill my empty hours. I arise each morning after the Gatekeeper has gotten up and showered. I wash my toes in the bathtub, and then I dry them on the couch. These attempts at self-hygiene are not appreciated, and the Gatekeeper threatens me with Squirty - my arch-nemesis, the squirt bottle. I scatter my breakfast (what breakfast I have!) across the kitchen in protest.

The breakfast I am given is a far cry from adequate for a young cat with a world to explore, so I jump on the kitchen counter and demand that the Gatekeeper feed me properly. I have yet to receive the salmon soufflé that I request, but most days she agrees to a small bowl of milk, and with that I must make do.

The Gatekeeper leaves the premises every day around 8.00, and it is then that I make my first bid for freedom. She summons me to the kitchen and places two cookies on top of the dishwasher, which I am expected to climb up and eat. It has recently come to my attention that this is a merely a trick designed to distract me from my mission. As much as it pains me to do so, I must forego the cookies if I want any hope of escape.

To my great shame and ongoing frustration, I have not as yet been successful in outrunning the Gatekeeper. I keep getting confused by the stairs. There are stairs that go up and stairs that go down, and I can't for the life of me figure out which ones I should take. All it takes is a moment of hesitation, and I am back where I started, under lock and key.

Defeat is fatiguing. I rest in my catbox.

Later, I pass some time chewing on the curtains. I watch the tram go by. I sleep on the Gatekeeper's pillow. I am careful not to overexert myself, as I need to save my energy for the evening's escape. Endurance activities such as Laps Around the Apartment, Chase the Mouse, and Climb the Shower Curtain I prefer to save for the hours just before sunrise.

Eventually, the hour of reckoning approaches and once again, I assume my position by the door.

One day, my friends. One day I will burst through those doors and the world will be mine. The scurrying mice, the crawling bugs, the illusive hair elastics, the stacks and stacks of tuna tins - they will all be mine. But for now, I wait.